


On Target

by Blizzard96



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Character Study, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-05
Updated: 2020-04-05
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:55:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23498620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blizzard96/pseuds/Blizzard96
Summary: Ashe thinks a lot about archery and insecurities. Claude dispenses advice and well-timed backflips.
Relationships: Ashe Duran | Ashe Ubert/Claude von Riegan
Comments: 6
Kudos: 62





	On Target

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aphrosCartographer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aphrosCartographer/gifts).



Bows were not a hero’s weapon, at least not according to any story Ashe had ever read. Main characters always favored swords, lances, and maybe axes if the author was writing a more gritty, rough-around-the-edges protagonist. These were the kinds of weapons that inspired fear and awe. According to all of his novels, there was nothing impressive about firing arrows from a distance.

Archers were supporting characters. They picked off the lesser enemies while the hero charged ahead. The most they could hope for was to be was comic relief or perhaps a well-timed bit of advice. They rarely got a noteworthy happily ever after, and Ashe was a bit sick of reading about them dying dramatically in a climactic battle for cheap emotional effect.

Growing up, Ashe hadn’t wanted to be an archer. Whenever he had played with his younger siblings, they had all pretended to be swordsmen or lance wielders. This didn’t change once Lonato had adopted them. Ashe had practically begged for spear lessons from his adoptive father, who proudly displayed his own weapons in the manor. In times where Lonato was too busy to attend to the children, Ashe would attempt to spar with Christophe using swords, though those lessons usually ended with Ashe being knocked flat on his back.

Though Ashe was better with a lance than a sword (at least he hadn’t nearly taken Christophe’s head off with a lance), his slim physique and uncanny accuracy pointed inevitably toward the bow. Even his father’s assurances that his archery skills were top notch weren’t enough to curb his disappointment.

‘Perhaps I was never meant to be a main character,’ Ashe thought. After all, no main characters in the legends were former thieves who had stolen food and money from upstanding hardworking citizens. Being a hero was more than a person like Ashe deserved.

* * *

Ashe had just resigned himself to his stable but unimpressive life, when Lonato made an announcement over dinner that changed his life.

“I have decided to have you enrolled in the Officer’s Academy at Garreg Mach,” Lonato said. He had made the statement casually, but his eyes had been sharp on Ashe to gauge his son’s reaction.

Ashe, for his part, had nearly dropped his fork. “What? Why?”

Confused emotions swirled through him. Excitement, first and foremost. The Officer’s Academy was the most prestigious school in all of Fódlan, and its alumni boasted some of the most decorated generals, knights, and rulers the land had seen. Nobles scrambled to send their children there from all corners of the Empire, Kingdom and Alliance in hopes of forging connections and asserting their names.

But as enthusiastic as Ashe was about the prospect, he couldn’t help but feel some confusion. It was no secret that his father was wary of the Church of Seiros. Ashe could hardly blame him after Christophe’s unexpected execution at the hands of the Church.

“I believe you could learn more there than you could here,” Lonato said carefully, “I am not always around to help you with your studies.” The ‘neither is Christophe anymore’ went unsaid. Unfortunately, the man volunteered no further information and continued to eat his food.

“I…” Ashe said, at a loss for how to respond, “Thank you. I’ll make you proud.”

At that, Lonato gave him a small but warm smile. “You always have.”

That night Ashe went to bed with nervous excitement fluttering in his chest. Perhaps he would have a chance to be a hero after all.

* * *

The Officer’s Academy at Garreg Mach Monastery was, in a word, overwhelming. There were so many students with bright and colorful (sometimes literally) personalities. The first day he’d arrived, Ashe had nearly been bowled over by the sight of the huge cathedral and towering buildings. The initial orientation tour with a small group of other commoners from Faerghus had detailed the monastery’s long and impressive history.

The monk giving the tour had pointed out nearly every cornerstone, tower and statue as some significant piece of art or history. All the names of wealthy donators and former royalty had begun to blur together in Ashe’s head as they navigated the wide pathways and many gardens. Ashe found himself relieved when they finally reached the classrooms, and resolved to spend most of his time outside of classes either in the cathedral or in the greenhouse as they seemed to be the easiest places to find from a distance.

The Blue Lions house, the monk said, had its own lengthy roster of alumni. Ashe supposed he shouldn’t be so surprised to learn that the heirs to many great noble houses were also attending the academy (like their parents before them, and their parents before them, and-), but he hadn’t realized there would be so many in his year alone. Perhaps their parents had all been in agreement to send their children at the same time despite their varying ages? Ashe had no idea how those kinds of things worked.

As expected, most of the noble heirs were trained in traditional weaponry. The heir apparent to House Fraldarius (though he insisted others call him Felix unless they wanted to lose their non-dominant hand) was proficient in sword play. Sylvain of House Gautier and Ingrid of House Galatea both specialized in lances. Though Annette and Mercedes preferred to use magic in combat, both revealed that they had previously attended a prestigious school for sorcery in Faerghus. The only other commoner that Ashe had managed to bond with was Dedue, though he could hardly be called a commoner as the current vassal of the prince.

And speaking of the future King of Faerghus, Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd was everything Ashe had expected of a royal. It was like he had sprang directly from Ashe’s favorite childhood stories. Blonde haired and blue eyed, his open smile and kind personality left a number of monastery staff and students alike swooning in his wake. Not only was he charming, but he was also practically undefeated on the battlefield, effortlessly cutting paths through groups of bandits and enemy soldiers. Ashe had no problem imagining Dimitri in Loog’s place in any of the legends, though the man himself would probably be beyond embarrassed if Ashe had ever said that to his face.

Future emperor Edelgard von Hresvelg of the Black Eagles was similarly untouchable. She reminded Ashe of the queens in stories that were refined and fierce, willing to make any sacrifice for the sake of her ideals. Her countenance had scared off a number of students from interacting with her, save for the children of Imperial nobles. Though he would never admit it, Ashe had found himself taking alternate routes to avoid running into Edelgard (not to mention her looming attendant Hubert).

By contrast, Claude von Riegan of the Golden Deer house was not the kind of person Ashe had ever seen gracing the cover of a fairytale. In fact, Claude was practically the antithesis. Cocky and restless, Claude was the resident troublemaker at Garreg Mach. Though he was an undoubtedly brilliant tactician on the battlefield, he was also often guilty of mixing poisons in the dining hall or setting traps in the classroom for any poor, unsuspecting student to trigger. One of the chairs in Seteth’s office was practically reserved for the leader of the Golden Deer with how often Claude was sent there for disciplinary lectures.

No, Ashe thought, Claude was definitely not the average story hero, or at least not one form a story centered on chivalry and virtue.

There had been other storybook protagonists that Claude reminded him of, but they were always in tales about swashbuckling pirates or charming rogues. Those kinds of characters were quick witted and silver tongued, prone to getting themselves into trouble and then talking their way out of it just as quickly. Ashe had never been as drawn to those stories as he had been to the ones about knights. It should have been easy for him to push all thoughts of Claude to the side and focus on his own training, had it not been for one tiny detail.

Claude von Riegan used a bow.

This in and of itself was unusual. Most of the other archers at Garreg Mach were either too timid to talk about their skills, as was the case with Bernadetta and Ignatz, or they used a bow as their secondary weapon and specialized in something else like a lance or a sword. In Ashe’s own house, he was practically the only one who specialized in archery. Occasionally Mercedes would join him in firing at a target on the training grounds, but more often than not she was studying her faith magic at the cathedral and Ashe was left alone. It had gotten to the point where Ashe was almost self conscious about his actions when he would seclude himself in a corner to practice his accuracy and draw speed.

Claude, by contrast, wielded his bow with the same sort of pride and showmanship that he did everything else. Ashe had seen the leader twirling arrows between his fingers during practice matches, and it was common to hear Raphael’s booming voice exclaim from across the dining hall about some unthinkable shots Claude would take in the middle of backflips or barrel rolls on his wyvern. Ashe shuddered to think of what would happen to him if he ever attempted the same kind of stunts. He’d probably be laid up in the infirmary for months.

Ashe wondered how the Golden Deer House leader could be so confident in his weapon choice. Surely Claude had heard all the whispers from various (likely jealous) students calling him weak for using an “easy” weapon, despite the fact that Claude had probably racked up more battlefield victories than all of his detractors combined. In response, however, Claude only seemed to become more extravagant in his aerial maneuvers and trick shots, as if daring anyone to call him a coward to his face.

Somewhere, deep down, Ashe questioned if someday he could also be that brave.

* * *

Ashe finally had the opportunity to bring up the feelings that had been bothering him when he found himself alone with Claude in the shooting gallery of an otherwise empty training ground. Ashe paused briefly, bow dangling from one hand, to glance at the man next to him. He took in Claude’s textbook perfect form as the other smoothly drew back his own arrow.

The image was immediately disrupted as Claude loosed his grip slight, turned around, and did a backflip- what the hell, Ashe thought- firing mid turn. The arrow struck the center of the bullseye with a satisfying thud at the same moment that Claude’s feet hit the ground. Ashe wondered briefly if he should clap, but a voice in his head that sounded suspiciously like Hilda said that Claude’s ego was inflated enough as it was.

“How do you do it?” Ashe though, only to realize a split second later that he’d spoken aloud. “Uh.”

“What, the backflip?” Claude smirked, “Well it might take a little practice, but you look pretty flexible…I could give you some pointers.”

Ashe flushed as Claude shot him a wink on the last bit. “No, not that!” he said hastily, “I meant the whole confidence thing.”

Claude shot Ashe a questioning look and then realization appeared to dawn on him. “Aw, I gotta say I didn’t expect this from you, Ashe, but I guess Sylvain’s habit for flirting has finally rubbed off on you. We’ll have to work on your technique though.”

Ashe immediately wanted the ground to open up under his feet and swallow him whole at how badly his words had been misinterpreted. “Wh-? No!” Ashe choked out, “I’m not flirting!”

“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about, I know I’m a catch-“

“Stop that!” Ashe huffed. He glowered at Claude’s smug grin. “You… you’re teasing me, aren’t you?”

Claude shrugged. “Maybe.”

“You know I wasn’t talking about… whatever you were thinking,” Ashe said, “I was talking about how you always manage to brush off the rude things people say about you. How do you do that?”

The leader’s expression suddenly turned sharp. “Are people saying things about you?”

“No,” Ashe said, a little too quickly, “I mean, not about me specifically. You know. Just. How I fight.”

He gave Ashe a lopsided smirk, though his eyes stayed cold. “Let me guess. ‘Archers are cowards who stand in the back while the real warriors do all the fighting’?” Ashe winced, recalling when he had overheard a student the other day saying the same phrase about him practically word for word.

“Something like that,” Ashe muttered, fingers plucking at his bowstring.

“It’s nothing I haven’t heard before,” Claude said, “In fact, that’s all I heard growing up. Everyone would tell me to ditch my bow and get a ‘real weapon’.”

“Right!” Ashe said, “How did you get past that?”

Claude pulled an arrow out of his quiver and began twirling it around his fingers absentmindedly. “I just knew that the bow suited me best. If I tried to use a great sword or a lance, I’d probably just end up dead on the battlefield.” Ashe’s eyes tracked the path of the arrow across Claude’s knuckles, wondering if it was a nervous habit of his. Ashe had to force his eyes back up to Claude’s face when he realized the other was still speaking.

“People are right in saying that you can’t fight on the front lines as an archer,” Claude said, “So, since I was in the back, I got good at directing maneuvers. People like us,” he waved a hand between Ashe and himself, which startled Ashe a bit as he’d never before considered himself similar to Claude in any way, “We have the opportunity to see the bigger picture when we’re further away. We can tell who needs support and can get there quickly.”

Ashe nodded, the words making sense. “So you’re saying being in the back can be an advantage.”

“And it can help make sure that everyone gets home safely,” Claude agreed. “I know what I’m capable of, and what I need to do to win. I have my own dreams, and I can’t afford a few insults from people who don’t know me to be tripping me up.” He smiled at Ashe. “Besides, the more others underestimate me, the better.”

It wasn’t a line Ashe could imagine any of the knights in his stories saying, but as Claude spoke, it sounded right in a different kind of way. “You’re pretty amazing,” Ashe said, “I wish I had something that motivated me like that.”

“I’m sure there’s something that motivates you,” Claude replied, “You wouldn’t be here otherwise.”

“I guess…I just always wanted to be a knight,” Ashe said, “I read all these stories about them growing up, but now that I’m here learning alongside all these other people… I’m not sure I’m suited to it.” He grimaced.

“What, just because you use a bow?” Claude asked, raising an eyebrow.

“It’s not just that,” Ashe said, “I wasn’t born a noble, so I don’t have all the connections that the other students do. I also don’t have much training in the way of etiquette or politics, so I doubt many nobles would want to hire me into their service.” He laughed, self-deprecatingly, “They don’t mention all those things in the legends.”

Claude gave Ashe a long, measured look, one that made Ashe nearly squirm under his gaze. Ashe hoped that Claude wouldn’t mock him after he took the risk of baring all his insecurities, but even if he did Ashe would hardly blame him. Both Sylvain and Felix had already called him naive for pursuing the ideals of a knight from the stories and, privately, Ashe was starting to agree that his time spent training and fighting battles for the church had shattered the image of knighthood that he’d started with.

Claude finally spoke, and Ashe braced for the worst. “Wanna know what I think? I don’t think what you really want is to be a knight necessarily.”

Ashe frowned, feeling a sharp pang stab through his chest. It wasn’t quite the dismissal that Ashe had expected, but it still hurt to hear. “And just how did you come to that conclusion?”

“Hear me out,” Claude said, returning the arrow he’d been spinning to his quiver and holding up a hand. “I think what really drew you into all those stories was the adventure. Sure, there’s the virtue and chivalry and blah, blah blah-“ Ashe was torn between exasperation and amusement at Claude’s inflection saying that, “But I think we both know that you don’t need to be a knight to have virtue or uphold justice.”

Ashe nodded slowly, “That’s true.” If he’d learned anything from his time at Garreg Mach, it was that bravery and nobility came in all forms.

“The best parts of all those legends are the parts with exploration,” Claude said, “The traveling, meeting new people, discovering new things, helping others… all that can’t be done if you’re stuck in some stuffy manor or castle for the rest of your life.”

“I… I guess I never thought of that,” Ashe said. The more he considered it, the less he liked the idea of being stuck in some noble’s service with little freedom for himself. Most of the heads of noble houses that Ashe had met were a far cry from the well meaning lords in the tales. They tended to be selfish and greedy, caring more about their own wealth and well being than the livelihoods of those in their territory. Ashe doubted he’d be doing much public outreach under them.

Claude nodded. “See? What you really want is to get out and explore other places.”

“But I really do want to help other people also,” Ashe said.

“It’s hard to help people when you’re stuck inside all the time,” Claude said. Something in his tone made Ashe think that the other was speaking from experience.

“So what’s your solution for me then?” Ashe asked. “If I shouldn’t become a knight, that is.”

Claude shrugged. “That’s up to you.”

“I thought as much,” Ashe sighed, “You know, even if you’re right, there’s not a lot of opportunity for a commoner like me to travel around and help people, especially now that Lonato…” he trailed off.

Claude hummed in acknowledgement. “Well…” he said, “You could always come with me.”

It took Ashe a second to process the words, but when he did his brain short circuited. “What?”

Claude coughed and shifted his stance. “I just meant that I’ve got… plans after we graduate,” Claude said, gauging Ashe’s reaction, “Including traveling quite a bit. If you stick with me, you’d probably get to see a lot more than whatever frozen manor in Faerghus they’d shove you in.”

“Faerghus isn’t that cold,” Ashe replied automatically, “You’re just not used to it.”

“Ouch. You calling me delicate, Ashe?” Claude smiled, though Ashe could still see the hesitation in the other’s eyes.

Ashe considered the man before him, who looked almost nervous as he waited for Ashe’s response. It was odd to see such an expression on the normally unflappable leader. In that instant, Ashe found it unexpectedly endearing. “I guess you’ll have to toughen up if we’re to go traveling together.”

Claude’s expression didn’t shift much, but the smile on his mouth seemed to finally brighten his eyes from a cool jade to a warm emerald. “Don’t worry, I’ll be in top form by the time we leave.” He gave Ashe a parody of a salute with two fingers. “You know, you should join the Golden Deer before then. I’m sure the others will be happy to have another archer to watch their backs, and it’d be nice for you and me to get to know each other more. I’ve actually been thinking about building an army of archers, what are your thoughts on Bernadetta-?”

Ashe smiled indulgently as Claude continued to ramble on about his future plans. Ashe himself was starting to think about what his own future might look like as well. As he stared at Claude’s messy hair, rumpled uniform, and restless fingers, Ashe thought that while his life might not be following the storyline he’d expected, he still couldn’t wait to see what happened next.

**Author's Note:**

> 1) Claude: Great! Now, are you ready to help me end racism?  
> Ashe: Wh-
> 
> 2) Whether or not I know how to spell Dimitri's last name is between me and Google.


End file.
